Music, Memories and 15 weeks

A year or so back we were reading the Book of Mormon as a family - and one of us read from a facsimile edition. Occasionally words and whole phrases would be quite different between the old edition and the current one. The phrase that struck us the most was in describing the Gentiles. In the current edition it describes them as being "in that awful state of blindness..." In the original BOM, it is described thus: "that state of awful woundedness..." which has a raw quality to it which I like.

What has this to do with Scotland, you might ask? Well...Heather and I have been listening to the Corries lately (surprising, I know!) and I rather think that, if one is willing, or feeling sensitive at the time, those old songs can have quite the effect on one. Of course, I've discussed this already a thousand times in my blog (well, nearly a thousand times!) yet it still gets to me, and that's why I still write about it I guess. Not only the history it evokes and stirs, but my own personal history, being raised with this music. This may sound silly, but some of the songs, if I let them, would make me cry. Right there in the middle of the living room, or listening from the kitchen as I make lunch. And that's where the Book of Mormon phrase comes in. Without sounding sacrilegious or anything, I might say that sad music can produce a "state of awful woundedness".

I don't want to sound maudlin, so I'll stop now. But consider the words of the song "The Blackbird" and imagine the lonely pipe that accompanies it:

But what if the Fowler my blackbird has taken?
Then sadness and sorrow will be all my tune
Ah, but if he is safe then I'll no be forsaken
and hope yet to see him in May or in June.

For him through the fire through mud and through mire
I'll go for I love him to such a degree
Who is constant and kind and noble of mind
Good luck to my blackbird wherever he be.